The Hood


Staff Writer

The HoodShredded pieces of a bed, table, chair, and many books were now useless. Only reminders of what used to be there: the beautiful french oak doors were scathed with claw marks. I walked farther into the crime scene On the outside, the architecture and detail was that of a palace. The inside was the exact opposite, even with the critical damage, it was as if the owners’ appreciation of nice things was but a mere facade they made up, but inside the mansion there was no chandeliers, expensive furniture, or anything that would be in a palace. It was almost a typical home if you pieced everything back together.

I ventured up the stairs toward the body I came to examine. There were claw marks scattered across her body, definitely that of wolves. Although the murderer was human, that I knew for sure as there were ligature marks across the victim’s throat indicating strangulation, and there were handprints on her throat. The captain started a conversation with the girl who found the victim; she was apparently the best friend. The woman claimed that she saw a hooded figure walking through the woods away from the house, so I decided to check it out myself. On my way out I told the officers I was headed to the back to see if I could get anything from the trail as the woman had claimed, hopefully a wrapper or a can, or something with DNA. As the trail kept going, so did I. Then a figure in a grey hoodie walked from around the bend in the trail. As soon as he saw me, he ran as if his life depended on it. So I did what any sensible person would do: I ran after the perpetrator.

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